The shadow vase
by gary5t3w
Summary: Malthus is a sorcerers apprentice, but there's one small problem. he kinda broke a fairly important magical artefact. now either he must get a new one or pin it on the cat and i'm not sure anyone would buy that. can he do it on time? or will it all go balls up? find out next time on the x-files! wait! what do you mean were not the x-files, okay just read the damn story! prick.


**The shadow vase**

Creeping silently, I climbed the cold spiral staircase; my sable robes aflutter in the warm mid-summer breeze. The sun was on the ascent and I had a fair bit of work to do I would have to: clean out the cauldrons, dust the book shelves, feed the imps, clean up the ritual room, tidy the kitchen/bedroom and finally feed the cat. Entering the kitchen on the third floor I decided to start at breakfast, passing a mirror I decided to give myself a good hard look. My face was pale and bony with a tuft of jet black hair sticking out from under the hood, my eyes were blood red with the only deviation being the blacks of my pupils and my figure was lean and gangly with my clothes hanging loosely. Really nothing unusual apart from the nasty bruise on my forehead. Fingering it tentatively I grimaced at the thought of having to take a door to the face, and I'm pretty sure she opened it extra fast that time as well! Pushing the thought out of mind I started spreading some clotted cream over a scone. But just before I could bite into it I heard an impatient 'food now' from my right foot. Watching my every move with ravenous eyes was an onyx wiry thing with paws called a cat… who talked. Ignoring him I devoured about three scones before that menace leaped onto the table with _murder_ in its eyes. 'cats aren't allowed on the table' I said after finishing a fourth 'quit stuffing your face and fill my bowl or I'll get really mean' he growled 'Bast, get off the table and then I'll feed you' I replied getting up from my chair to wash the recently used plates. Grumbling Bast reluctantly went back to the floor 'see was that so hard' I chided while putting some of the fresh fish into his bowl. 'it's midday Malthus, you haven't even started a single chore!' it snarled 'well looks like someone's not getting cod' I remarked coolly 'we don't even have cod!' he yelled exasperatedly 'well the point still stands and besides your overreacting it's only 09:00' fed up Bast did that thing when cats stretch before curling up into a ball to await his breakfast. He hadn't to wait long as in half a minute a bowl full of slimy odorous fish was placed beneath his nose. 'are you feeding me rotten fish?' Bast hissed 'well you asked for food and now you got your food' 'I can't eat rotten fish' he spat back 'well next time consider who's feeding you before being such a git' I snapped. Hopping off my chair I started towards the door leaving Bast staring in revulsion at his stinking dinner.

Mid-day and I was nearly finished: the bedroom had been tidied with all the cushions plumped and the large bed made, the clothing had all been cleaned let up too dry, the magical creatures had all been given their appropriate foods, the cauldron had been emptied of the gloopy steaming brownish sludge that had been stagnating since saturday, the ritual room had been cleared of all its bloody stains and arcane instruments with some salt incense left burning to drive off any lingering spirits. All that was left to do was dust the bookshelves in what master called the "library", even though really it was more an oversized study other than anything else. The room was a squat cylinder lined with cramped books, arcane tomes and moth eaten grimoires competing for space in the soft light of tallow candles. The centre of the room was given over to two shelves towering intimidating over a rickety chair and desk blanketed in ink covered paper. The shelves housed master's selection of favoured magical charms and enchanted weapons and other mystic thingies (the technical description of course). But most delicate of all was masters shadow vase, it had gathered an inch of dust on its surface and was coated in a thick webbing. Running the duster along the shelves I worked clockwise over each individual row and before long the books had been thoroughly dusted. the magical artifices however where much harder to dust with their many nooks, crannies and crevices. But in the end only the shadow vase was left to dust, turning around the vase in my hands I was unprepared for what came next. A cat… landed on my head… now as a sorcerer's apprentice you learn to expect quite a few things such as disembodied voices whispering things to you or dark spirits stealing your knickers. However, a cat landing on your head is not one of these (fortunately). So when that happened I dropped the shadow vase. As it slipped from my fingers I suddenly forgot about the cat, and stared in abject horror as the vase shattered with a loud **crack.** a cold sweat broke down my back as condensation rose from my mouth, black things emanated from the broken wreckage. Shadows without bodies crawled away, some sped along the floor, some were projected across the walls and others seemed to pass through me as human shaped clouds of hate. Ironically the sound of the whispering was deafening filling the room with incoherent ramblings and maddening inhuman tongs. Holding my hands to my ears vainly hoping for respite from the demoniac gibbering's I hurried to the door as things unseen filled the once quiet study. Desperately scrambling to the door I could see the steam rising from my mouth as spectral hands battered my musty robes; tossed around by unseen winds I launched myself towards the door handle. Half stumbling half falling my shivering fingers clutched the cold iron of a door handle, wrenching the door open the disembodied maelstrom drained away. Clinging to a ledge I listened to the mocking cackling rushing past in a cold gale of abominable glee. With the melodramatic purple prose out of the way I looked about the now quiet study, and with an exasperated sigh exclaimed 'oh come on! I was nearly finished you stupid twat!'

Fuming I cleared away the broken shards into a metal pan, stalking up to my elbow that four pawed menace smugly purred into my ear 'that's what you get for giving me bloody rotten fish' picking up the pan I dumped it into a bucket. Swishing his tail in my face Bast continued 'I wonder how he'll take the news… you know the fact you destroyed a container for all sorts of unspeakable powers' he wondered, 'pretty mad I'll guess… since a lot of spells require unseen forces and you know that's kinda where he kept them' I remained silent hauling the bucket of broken pieces out through the open door frame. Bast had almost begun giggling as he followed me out 'oh how I do hope he kicks you out, being sent home wondering what could have been if only I'd been kind to deer old Bast' he moaned in a caricature of my glorious self 'yes that would be a satisfying and very likely end to your apprenticeship' finished with his tirade Bast finally shut his gob. In truth however those thoughts had been swimming in my head the moment not dying to a room full of angry spirits had been accomplished. What if he fed me to the imps? What if master decides to use me as a sacrifice? What if I'm sent to bed hungry? All those and more had been considered in my silence. But most likely he would just send me home packing as I couldn't be trusted for more than a couple hours. So if I wanted to stay his apprentice I would either have to trick him into not noticing, convince him it wasn't me or I would have to replace it. Firstly, master wasn't dumb, he was lecherous not stupid and last time I checked I wasn't a pretty young girl. Secondly master had a fair bit of faith in Bast and would be difficult to convince him otherwise. So the only option was the third, replace it. Really I didn't know anyone who would have a spare shadow vase, if you weren't a sorcerer you probably didn't need it. (this applies to witches and warlocks as well… they generally aren't casting large enough spells to require one) so… I would have to make one, dun dun duunn! dumping the broken remains into a nearby bin I snatched Bast up by the scruff off his neck. 'let go! Grrgh off you pillock!' pulling the wriggling git up to head height I muttered 'you got me in this mess, now your gonna help me get my but into the clean'. Finally, still Bast cackled 'ooh how intimidating! Why should I a shadow made flesh help a snot nosed little brat?' I smiled inwardly that cocky tool was his own worst enemy, I knew his price. It wasn't virgin sacrifices… or sacrifices at all or anything really complex 'two mice' 'a couple mice! what do you think I am an animal! Make it four and then you have a deal' he said without a hint of irony.

Flushing out the spirits from the tower was my first job, Bast hunted down the lingering powers and I put down some salt incense. The disembodied voices are generally just fart jokes, either that or eldritch truths man shouldn't know (a large misconception about sorcerers going mad is that it's the eldritch truths, but in fact the fart jokes are just that inane) but in the end the incorporeal gibbering's are really annoying and needed to be silenced. Summoning one of my imps I sent it to fetch a fancy pot from the potter. (hopefully he doesn't look too closely) selecting some arcane instruments from the storage cupboard outside the ritual room I stuffed them into a wicker backpack. Making a shadow vase was no mean feat and I would need all of the tools available to me: black candles, a cage of live mice, sulphur incense, a bowl with brush and most importantly a trusty familiar. (well actually he's a devious twat who mucks up your day over the smallest slight but beggars can't be choosers) placing the heaviest item (the cage) in the bottom I then sat the black candles upright squished alongside the incense with the bowl and brush on top before Bast reluctantly (understatement of the century I had to offer another two fresh mice to him, if he knew what that was doing to his waist he'd close his gob) clambered in. Firstly, I'll find an area that's chock full of dark spirits; Secondly I'll conjure up those spirits within the ritual circle and lastly I'll perform the ritual that binds them to the pot. This is an abominable over generalisation but you get the jist, only problem is master hadn't taught me how to make a shadow vase. You see although I am an incredibly talented apprentice with plenty of potential this is still my first month on the job, a container of unseen powers is fairly advanced and I hadn't been exactly clued in on how to make one. So once more in the library I followed alphabetic order until I reached " _mandrake hardwood's 'extensive' grimoire on arcane enchantments vol 2"_ flipping through to the glossary I found the page I needed and checked if it covered its construction (grimoires are the records of spells that a mage keeps and usually they cover all aspects such as the ritual but not always). walking out with a completely different book that actually had useful information (such as the actual ritual). Passing the doors, I was greeted by the only two staff left, grim Wallace and Jeff. Grim Wallace was a taciturn veteran of many wars, and jeff a wiry youth who was greener then the grass (green as in inexperienced, not actually green, that would just be silly).'hey Malthus ol buddy o pall, seeing that lovely lady friend of yours or maybe even her sister' the younger one not so subtly suggested 'still not going to introduce you to her or her sister' looking down dejectedly he muttered 'greedy son of a gun, couldn't even share'. Leaving the two guardsmen I marched down under the lengthening shadow of the sorcerer's tower.

The sun had dropped too quickly in the sky for my liking by the time I arrived at my destination, looking about the same old rolling hills with their decrepit cobble walls and cool breezes descending into cosy hamlets shrouded in woods. Well that's just fascinating I decided before hurrying to her house, she was expecting me anyways so I might as well kill two birds with one stone. The large stately house was the only stone building for miles and set out to impress with its two stories and plastered walls, candy coloured windows and little red door. The garden was a zealously managed affair with richly coloured flowers standing to attention like soldiers in their rows, and weird bulbous invented plants derived from the creative annals of a bored mind. The house was noble with straight sides filed by shrewd men, and it demanded a respect for its owners from the common man. Slipping lithely out of my bag Bast looked about commenting 'so I guess this is where they all went, they flock to magic like moths to a flame'. Grabbing the brass knocker, I rapped it abruptly against the painted oak and waited, I hadn't to wait long before I heard hurried footsteps rush to the door.

Swinging forwards (and not hitting me this time) it revealed Madalyn standing sweetly, she was about a head shorter than me with golden locks cascading down her back and shoulders. Her eyes where a light shade of green like the leaves of an apple tree, her face was full and comely with rosy cheeks and pale lips. Smiling girlishly, she prodded my chest teasing 'looks like Mr ghastly finished his extra chores early just to see me, how sweet, and he brought a lovely kitten' at this Bast purred in self-satisfied. Raising an eyebrow, I asked 'firstly I thought I was a ghoul an-' shrugging she interrupted 'well they mean the same thing… right?' idling away from the door we started down the corridor. 'why you asking me I'm not a thesaurus, but anyways how did you know I had extra chores?' bouncing down the halls she turned into the lounge 'pfft! Didn't you feel it when he left? when someone that steeped in magic leaves you feel it in your gut' I knew this already. Daintily Madelyn took a seat whereas I plopped down onto the closest chair 'that still doesn't explain how you knew he had given me more work' coming around a mousy serving girl hefting a large kettle poured us each a boiling cup. Putting a finger to her lip she gave a cheeky wink 'well I figured that his retinue would follow suite and you'd be left with their job… I guess I figured right' proudly she took a nice long sip of tea. Thinking for a moment I responded cynically 'or you just used magic like a scrying mirror, you are a witch after all' stroking Bast who had curled up on her lap 'have some faith Malthus, you should trust your friends more' she pouted. Remembering the vase, I asked 'Madalyn, I have a favour to ask from you' with a surprised look she responded 'of course' 'I want to use your basement, I broke something of masters and I want to replace it before he figures out'. 'what was it?' I felt a familiar presence return my imp had completed its task 'his shadow vase' a vase would be here shortly 'ouch, he's not going to be a bit pleased' she cringed 'which is why I'm going through the dangerous and possibly fatal process of making a replacement' after sipping another mouthful of tea Madalyn bit her bottom lip 'that doesn't sound right' thanks captain obvious I'm pretty sure I can tell that sounds a bit stupidly risky I thought. Putting her cup down she gave me that pretty smile of hers 'you forgot me'. Bast pricked his ears up in surprise with a look of incredulity muttering 'idiots! All of them'.

Walking back into the imperial hall she walked that bouncy walk of hers to the basement door 'look this is quite an advanced ritual I haven't done anything involving this number of deamons… and I doubt you have either' skulking after I heard a meek knocking at the front door, throwing the basement door open she remarked 'have some faith, I'm a witch after all'. opening the front door, I looked down upon a very nervous delivery boy hefting a moderate sized vase 'um… th-this y-your vase sir' pulling out a splattering of coins I replied 'so slow… I wouldn't recommend that kind of service to my worst enemy' snatching the vase from the violently shaking child I scowled 'you're lucky I don't feed you to anything nasty'. 'wow so scary, threatening a child' Bast mocked 'ha that's rich coming from the oh so righteous Bast' I retorted. Coming up from behind Madalyn grabbed me firmly by the ear 'come on, we have more important things to do than giving children nightmares' peering in, the child's wide saucer eyes followed unwavering from her sky blue dress. As we reached the door a feminine almost feline voice sounded from the landing above 'my my my, what a pickle you've seem to gotten into' Alice gracefully leant against the balustrade smiling slyly. Running a lithe finger through her glossy hair her rouged lips contorted into an evil grin, looking down at me and Madalyn in self-satisfaction the verdant green of her eyes taking on a predatory nature. 'look who's decided to show up, got board of kissing up to daddy?' her thin eyes gave me a sly smile 'Malthus Malthus Malthus, how could you be so cruel and hostile, I just came to see my half-sister and sickly mother' Madalyn raised an eyebrow (probably in scepticism… just saying) 'still doesn't explain why you're up there I've told you, mum needs her sleep' she chided. Gliding down the staircase Alice shrugged her shoulders daintily 'so she is' running her red nails over the bannister she looked over directly above us 'wait a sec she's still alive!' I exclaimed from what Madalyn told me she had sounded pretty dead. 'well she's a tough bird, but what I find interesting thing is what on earth you two could be doing in the basement' she cooed emphasising the dimples on her delicate cheeks; Madalyn gave her a cross look 'none of your business' in contradiction Bast jeered 'snogging' the two girls (unjustly) gave me a surprised look one blushing the other smiling in a cross between mirth and mild amusement. Deciding to make the most of this I made my exit 'now… me and your sister have some business to attend to' Taking Madalyn by the arm I led the furiously blushing girl down the dark passageway.

Descending down the abyssal stairway I felt the claustrophobic stonework slick with condensation. Madalyn closed the door after we entered, plunging us into an inky blackness darker than a winter night. The dormant chill seeped through our clothes from the frozen air, so generally basements are fairly rubbish but not even the spiders where present here. Looking down I could make out the stairs despite the pitch black… and the doorway… and the walls in great yet unnecessary detail. Yea my eyes are weird, have a problem with that? Clinging onto my arm and carrying the wicker backpack Madalyn was still blushing, uneasily her shoes tiptoed down the slippery stone behind my sure footing. Slinking down by our left side Bast weaved through our legs quite content in the shadows. 'pick up the pace, it's almost like you should've brought a candle' I jeered 'well not if I can just follow those glowing eyes of yours…'she trailed off, 'uh you didn't seemed that fazed by Bast's suggestion' copping on I slowly realised what she meant 'about snogging? Well it got your sister off our backs didn't it' I stated bluntly 'I guess so' she sighed looking sheepishly to the side. The next couple of seconds where defined by an uncomfortably awkward silence, which was thankfully interrupted when the last step was cleared. The room was squat and square only barely clearing my head, it was a dull, monotonous and unyielding grey. Blindly groping Madalyn rooted through the backpack pulling out it's ritualistic components. Reaching into the many pockets and pouches of my robes I felt about through many magical items before settling on something more mundane. Pulling out a flint and steel I lit a black tallow candle illuminating the entire room with an icy blue flame. You could tell this was where the magic happens, bare walls adorned with bestial scratchings and charred stone. Ahhh now this is more like it! At every corner of the room we placed and lit an incense, while with a knife I killed the mice and drained them into the bowl. I then drew the blood into a large pentagram using mathematic values to ensure the pentagram was symmetrical. In the centre I left the bowl half full with blood, Madalyn went to each point of the pentagram placing a black candle on each. Madalyn looked about uncertain and worried 'are you sure we have enough? I mean I'm guessing you need quite a few' rubbing against her legs Bast purred 'course there are, if I want any mice I kind of need to do my job' picking him up she squeezed him to her breasts. I sighed this could only go so well. After putting the vase in the centre of the circle me and Madalyn looked through the grimoire at the ritual itself; going white she looked at me 'you weren't kidding… this looks like something you'd need four or six people for' with a pencil I underlined the key steps 'I'm sure we'll be strong enough to do it, you're a witch after all' giving me a confident smile she gave me a look of utter trust 'you're right I'm sure we can pull it off' I might as well have been leading her off a cliff.

Standing opposite each other we concentrated on the task at hand; the ritual is the lifeblood of magic. There are three types of ritual: enchantment, evocation and conjuration. The ritual would manipulate the unseen forces (spirits and daemons both refer to these forces) to either change the corporeal world (evocation), to imbue an item with mystical properties(enchantment) or to bind that force to either a vessel or a shape of its own choosing (conjuration). What we were attempting was a two stage ritual, a conjuration then followed by enchantment. With a simple summoning spell we hoped to conjure a great few lesser spirits, following this they would be used in the enchantment of the vase turning it into a container for greater forces. This would be very difficult for two inexperienced magic users. Mainly due to there being only two of us as the more people in a ritual the more the unseen forces can be distributed evenly. Now if we failed due to either letting the powers overwhelm us or buggering up the spell the backlash could have multiple consequences. From boils to a painful death to a particularly painful death, however if the spell was finished before the backlash could take effect… well the person/people who finished that spell would be affected instead.

Taking a long breath, me and her stood opposite each other with the vase in the centre of the pentagram. Pointing loadstone instruments (hers a baton mine a knife, edgy) parallel to each other we started the ritual, reciting the incantation I could feel the dark power stirring and straining. For a second all was still, then a great rushing of wind was heard but not felt. I could feel a force pressing against my hands as a subliminal whispering emanated from the blood stained circle. Continuing our deft movements my chanting increased in volume loud and clear as we strained to move the tools in unison. An inwards force began pushing as I felt shadowy presences, those dark jealous brothers of demons who lingered mindlessly in dark and mystic places. Straining against the two forces I grimaced as unseen beings buffeted my robes and grasped at my skin. The muscles along my arm where taught and had begun to ache though I ignored it about as well as I could. The chill that permeated the room now numbed me entirely and froze the condensation. The primal origins of long dead tongues echoed around reverberating through my bones aching more than any beating. I focused but looking at Madalyn I could clearly see the strain, the pain, her body trembled as she shook sinking lower and lower. 'Madalyn on the count of three we start the enchantment, ok?' giving me a weak smile she nodded. Raising the loadstones, we focused tracing the air with alien movements pushing against the disturbed spectres. Eldritch winds burst forth as abyssal screams blasted into me, great disembodied limbs of nothingness battered the great stone walls. Standing firm I continued the ritual resisting the urge to scream, spectres reached forth from the peripheral of imagined sight as I struggled on. Tears welling from my eyes as I shook from this ghastly force I continued, the frozen temperature plummeted in such a way that would shatter any presumed thermometer. Madalyn struggled as well bravely facing that tempest selflessly alongside me, yet at the final hurdle with a shudder she made a mistake. She had gone right when she should have gone left, the seething forces found their opportunity. A cold sweat half frozen broke over my back as I wrenched the loadstone knife down to finish the ritual. Ululating the last of those dark words I began to bind those primal forces into the corporeal vase, I felt the vortex of power relapsing a dark gale now directed against me. I had gambled my life due to a narcissistic ego, I had rushed to fix my mistakes in foolish haste rather than accept my punishment and I had endangered the life of my one friend. My muscles burned with exertion screaming in resistance, pulling it down I strained against what felt like hundreds of cloying hands. Finishing the movement, I finally bound it, but before I could celebrate I had to pay the price. The power lashed out penetrat- (umm that might actually be a poor choice of words) permeating through me, rending my body in searing pain, I felt it contort and burn my muscles as I began to cough up blood. Collapsing in my drained and weakened state I began to lose consciousness, in my last thoughts I cursed many things. the idiocy that led me here, the heroism that made me sacrifice myself for another… but above all I cursed my stupid body for giving up.

A soft hand struck me across the face, it stung quite a bit despite the prissiness behind it. I hurt all over. Smacking across my face a second time it left a faint red mark. I really didn't want to get up. For a third time I was slapped like an unfaithful lover caught doing a redhead on the couch. My arms and legs felt like jellied led (personally I prefer my led boiled), and my head… well apparently someone opened a can of woopass not so long ago. For a fourth time I was slapped in a very desperate manner, because as we all know I can tell from being slapped how desperate the slapper was. And for some reason my bed felt like stone. Slowly I began to come to, apparently there was a crying girl on top of me. As my vision focused I saw from the blond curls and soft green eyes that it was Madalyn. And then she slapped me a fifth time. Groaning I pleaded 'don't, mercy, give me another hour's sleep' overcome with joy she flung her arms about me. 'Malthus! I thought-' she blubbered through the tears, smirking I muttered 'if I'm going to die I'm going to have to get one final quip beforehand' then a thought crossed through my mind 'are you okay? I'm so sorry I should've just told him, I don't know how I convinced myself into this, it's all my fault' I said in genuine concern and regret 'Malthus I'm fine, you pulled it off, and don't beat yourself up over this… unless you want another door to the face' she smiled mischievously 'I knew that was on purpose!' 'Mr paranoid over here' she teased prodding the angry bruise. Bast sat alone licking his paws 'and I thought we were rid of you, better make good on those mice' that menace threatened not so threateningly (well he is a cat, they can only look so scary). Then suddenly a violent cough took hold, squeaking in surprise Madalyn was stained with a pitch bile. Luckily it wasn't vomit, I didn't particularly look forwards to seeing all those scones again. Convulsing the coughing wracked my body coating whatever I held up to block it. Hands, fabric, a Madalyn scented napkin (what you looking at, weirdo). Sitting up the fit continued for that painfully long hour, sitting by me Madalyn comforted me in that dark, damp bloodstained basement. Sitting central like some gothic prize to be shown to the morbidly curious sat the shadow vase, ghostly they sat in their abyssal cage lurking within the cursed clay.

It was long past noon I had been thinking, Madalyn had been nothing If not kind and despite hitting me with a door was probably my only real friend. She had put her life on the line to help me, comforted me in my darkest hour and what had I done apart from making cynical comments and endangering her life. I would have to return the favour, the best thing I could do would be to visit her. And perhaps I could help around her house, and maybe be a bit less of a jackass. Yea that seems right, spotting the tower I left my musings on character development. strutting up me and Bast passed both Jeff and Grim Wallace. Entering I realized that the buzz of activity had returned to the squat round tower. Maids and servants bustled up and down the main stairs and masters personal guard was posted on every other door (even the cleaners closets). Merchants and lawmakers argued profusely (by the time I got there it had devolved into an insult slinging contest, they came up with some ingenious and very comedic ones) and other administrative types hustled with large bundles of paper tucked beneath their arms. Striding impetuously, I was ignored despite the very obvious and noticeable vase I carried. They probably thought I was just running an errand for master Balthasar, Bast had slinked off the moment the door was opened. In case he needed bribing again I would have to make good on this promise, bloody high maintenance pussy. Skulking up trying not to be suspicious, fat chance, I made it to his study. Edging the creaky door open I sided in all sneaky like, right past a couple of impassive and uninterested guards picking their noses or something just as inane. Walking over to the space earlier occupied by the previous shadow vase I gently placed its successor into position. Standing I breathed a sigh of relief, before master Balthasar barged down the door. When you think sorcerer what do you think? Robes, yea he's got those, a staff and tower, yea those too. A wise and sage old man who uses his great power responsibly and sparingly? Hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Not really. Think more an immature 25 year old uses his power to attract the ladies and spends as much time drinking as studying. Now usually this means he has a hangover from dawn to late afternoon, however this usually doesn't affect his affability. Standing in the doorway with a pint of lager in his free hand he gave me a jovial smile 'there you are! Wondering where you got to?' 'I was just at Mrs may's house with her daughter' chuckling to himself he replied 'heh like master like apprentice then… is that lovely lady still alive?' I sighed 'still alive, but keep your pants on she's bedridden' his face flashing with disappointment at the news. 'how'd the feast go' I inquired 'brilliantly half of them brought their wives, and well the other half where women! I also made some political alliances but eh that's unimportant' I rolled my eyes at his typical behaviour but then at least he didn't have a stick up his ass… (unlike some people!) Then suddenly I was hit by a fit of coughing, quickly covering my mouth I tried to hide the substance. but he saw it, striding over he wrenched my arm into clear view. The brown cloth was stained with a not so subtle black viscous bile. Raising an eyebrow, he looked me in the eyes with and simply said 'explain'.


End file.
